Misunderstandings
by terianoen
Summary: Merlin thinks Arthur's in love with Gwen. Arthur thinks Merlin spends too much time with Lancelot. Lancelot thinks Gwen is over him. And Gwen thinks Lancelot wishes he were with Merlin. Honestly, there's just too much thinking going on in Camelot.
1. Part 1

**Title:** Misunderstandings

**Summary:** Merlin thinks Arthur's in love with Gwen. Arthur thinks Merlin spends too much time with Lancelot. Lancelot thinks Gwen is over him. And Gwen thinks Lancelot wishes he were with Merlin. Honestly, there's just too much thinking going on in Camelot.

**Warnings:** Slash, meaning boyXboy.

**Pairings:** Arthur/Merlin (main), Lancelot/Gwen, Gwen/Arthur (beginning only).

**Author's Note:** This takes place sometime between the third and fourth seasons. Uther is alive and technically still king, but he's not going to have much of a presence. Lancelot is a knight with Arthur acting as King. Arthur is courting Gwen; however, she is still just as servant, and Merlin is, well, Merlin. This is 3 parts long at about 10,000 words long.

**Disclaimer:** I am writing this for fun and not profit. I do not own Merlin or any of the characters therein.

Part 1: The One Where Everyone Thinks They Know What They've Seen

Arthur was standing off to the side, a little less than a foot away from Guinevere, leaning forward in a way that Merlin was more than familiar with. He was sure Gwen could feel Arthur's breath, the heat of his body against her skin.

And while Merlin didn't know what it was to have Arthur look at him with desire in his eyes—would probably never know. He did know what it was like to stand so close to Arthur he could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He knew what it felt like to be the only one able to make Arthur smile. He knew what it felt like to be on the other side of the man's affection, and he knew what it was like to be pressed to the ground, wrestled down in a moment of boyish enthusiasm with Arthur stretched out on top of him and laughing all the while.

Merlin had to look away before he did something stupid—like go over there. It wasn't like it would do any good anyway. He could stomp over there all he wanted, push Gwen out of the way and lay claim to Arthur and proclaim his love, and it would end in nothing but him getting hurt, because Arthur was horribly, inevitably in love with Gwen. Not him.

He fiddled with the straps of Arthur's saddle, ducking his head to avoid the gaze of the passing knights. They were preparing to leave on a mission; something about a wayward monster that had been terrorizing villages. Gaius was convinced the monster was a Hydra, and they had searched all night in order to find the spell it would take Merlin to defeat it.

"Nervous?" Lancelot asked, brushing beside Merlin as he made his way to his own horse. He was carrying his saddle bag, staring down at Merlin with a concerned expression. Merlin felt slightly touched; of all the knights, Lancelot was the only one who knew of his magic. He was the only one who supported Merlin unconditionally, who knew of all the extra things he did for the kingdom, for Arthur.

He was also the only one who knew Merlin was horribly and desperately in love with Arthur. Arthur, who would never look at Merlin to save his life.

"Not hardly," Merlin answered, smiling widely at his friend. "You?"

"A little," Lancelot confessed, his voice low, distracted, and Merlin didn't miss the way his eyes flicked to Gwen and Arthur. He couldn't help but follow Lancelot's line of sight, though he regretted it immediately.

Arthur was now kissing Gwen, the gentlest touch of his lips against hers, his hand on her waist in the most respectable, gentlemanly way. Merlin felt the pain lace through him before he could even look away. It wasn't a new thing, Gwen and Arthur. They'd been courting for a while now. But that still didn't mean Merlin liked the reminder.

"We best be off," Lancelot shifted uncomfortably, wrenching his saddlebags higher up on his arm. Merlin smiled at him, but he could tell by the way Lancelot frowned that it wasn't convincing in the least.

But Arthur was walking over, leaving Gwen standing on the steps, staring after him, and they would be on their way soon, departing to fight another monster, and really, it was better to not think about these things. It wasn't as if he could _change _it.

"Yeah," he nodded at Lancelot as he walked away.

"What was that about?" Arthur asked, his voice sounding unusually sharp as he stopped beside Merlin, his eyes trailing after Lancelot as he spoke, hands tight on his saddle.

"Just asking about the journey," Merlin shrugged, blinking up at Arthur's scowl. It wasn't a new expression for Arthur. Some mix of annoyance and anger about some new thing that Merlin had no doubt done wrong.

"Right," Arthur answered, and Merlin had to resist the temptation to roll his eyes as he continued to pout.

"It's not going to bite you, you know," Merlin told him.

"I _know _that, _Mer_lin," Arthur answered, rolling his eyes impossibly hard as he pulled himself up onto his horse. Merlin did the same on his own, his eyes never leaving Arthur's sturdy form. "You packed the food, didn't you?" Arthur asked, still eyeing Merlin warily.

"Why would we need food for half a day's journey?" Merlin answered, his quip quick and full of amusement, and Arthur was left blinking at him, which was really, the perfect opportunity to dig his heels into his horse and take off ignoring the startled call of his name behind him.

* * *

Arthur glanced behind him again, staring back at Merlin's horse. He was lagging behind, again, walking his horse back beside Lancelot's. Again. He was talking to Lancelot, whispering to Lancelot. _Again._

Arthur would have said something. He _would _have, but if he did, it would have been about the 100th time the past couple of hours, and Merlin hadn't listened to him, yet. Most of the time it was charming—or something—when Merlin just did Merlin, smiling at Arthur and laughing and treating him like he was everyone else. But right now, it was just annoying.

He leaned back in his saddle, staring over his shoulder to look back at Merlin and Lancelot yet again. Usually, Merlin rode up front with him, and it wasn't that Merlin couldn't talk to anyone else, it was just that it was _weird _and wrong. And that was it. It had nothing to do with the fact that Arthur didn't like Merlin talking to anyone but him.

Merlin could talk to whoever he wanted. Even if it involved whispering and secrets that he apparently felt Arthur didn't need to know.

"Pining, Princess?" Gwaine asked, steering his horse up next to Arthur's—in _Merlin's_ spot.

"What?" Arthur snapped, scowling at Gwaine before he could stop himself. It wasn't that he didn't like Gwaine. Well, sometimes. Most of the time, but Gwaine wasn't Merlin, and that was Merlin's _spot. _

Everyone knew that.

Everyone except apparently Merlin, who was riding beside Lancelot.

"That's like the 1,000th time you've looked back at Merlin and Lancelot," Gwaine said, pulling his water skin out for another sip, and Arthur could tell by the way Gwaine was swaying in his saddle, that it didn't have water in it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur answered, and Gwaine just laughed as if _Arthur _the one being an idiot.

"Sire," Merlin's voice echoed in the forest around them. Arthur stopped his horse, looking back as Merlin came trotting up behind him. "We can't be far now, can we?" Arthur stared at him for a long minute, before turning to look at the surrounding forest.

He knew the monster had been last seen in this part of the forest. And as he finally looked around, he noticed what Merlin was talking about. The signs were all around, in the snapped twigs and the shuffling tracks around their feet. Which he would have _seen _if Merlin hadn't been so distracting. Arthur threw his leg over the side of his horse, dismounting quickly, walking over to the first set of prints he saw.

He wasn't surprised when Merlin was right behind him, his breath ragged and comforting on Arthur's back as he held his own horse's reins tight. The tracks were clear in the direction they had gone. He waved his knights over, and they followed behind him as he and Merlin led the way into the woods.

The tracks led south, zig-zagging a little as it wound through the forest, heading into the bushes, through brambles. When Merlin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, Arthur knew better than to argue.

He listened for a minute before he heard the loud hissing from the nearby clearing. Then they were tying up their horses and creeping forward as they drew their swords. Arthur glanced back, checking that Merlin was behind him, already knowing Merlin would never leave altogether before he stepped through the bush and into the clearing. After all, there was really no point in letting Merlin run off somewhere stupid or anything.

The monster was…

It had four large heads, all of which whipped around to stare at them as they broke through the bushes. They hissed simultaneously at him, and the heat coming in waves from their mouths hit him so hard he felt dizzy. He stepped forward, his knights fanning out around him as he waved his sword. He turned his head slightly and noticed with a sense of horror that Merlin was no longer behind him.

He snapped around as his knights advanced and spotted Merlin almost immediately. Talking to Lancelot. In the middle of a battle—as if their little romance couldn't wait until they weren't all about to die. He stepped toward them, feeling so angry he could see red on the edge of his vision, making him hot and his blood bubbling and-

Then something collided with his side, and he was suddenly flying, hitting a tree, letting out a painful grunt. The monster hissed over him. It had apparently followed him as its breath struck his face, hot and rancid in his nose, and he was choking on its scent, unable to breathe.

"Arthur!" Merlin's voice echoed around him, and he saw Merlin's dark hair and stupid red scarf—really, did he _ever _take the thing off—running toward him, and somehow that snapped Arthur out of his trance, because God forbid Merlin go and do something stupid like die.

He wrenched his Sword hand up and over, slicing clean through one of the monster's heads, which fell a little too easily in Arthur's opinion. It landed with a sickening smack. The creature snapped away from Arthur, wiggling around as if in pain. And Merlin was suddenly _there_, leaning over Arthur and staring at his face as if he'd never seen him before.

"Are you alright?" Merlin asked, low and worried and stuffy.

"Fine," Arthur groaned, but Merlin was already looking away. Looking at _Lancelot_—of course at Lancelot.

Merlin's hand was on his shoulder, his head turned away, his neck long and lithe and his ear sticking up in that horrible attractive way of his that Arthur _refused _to think about right now, because _really_, they were in the middle of combat and there was four—um, seven, there was a seven headed monster.

How had that happened again?

He was starting to get really dizzy now.

"Merlin-," he started, having no idea what he was going to say, but somehow knowing it was important.

"Stay here," Merlin answered, his hand putting pressure on Arthur's shoulder as if _that _would keep him down. And then Merlin was running off, heading toward _Lancelot_ and toward the monster. And it wasn't that Merlin was leaving him. Arthur could handle being _left. _

It was just that Merlin was Merlin, and he couldn't expect Arthur to just sit and watch as he fought by himself. He should have known better.

Arthur struggled to his feet, watching as Merlin stood slightly behind Lancelot, his blue eyes on Lancelot as he battled the monster. He realized Merlin was saying something and tried to get closer to hear what it was. To hear a glimpse of what was going on between them that he was so obviously excluded from.

Though a second later, he realized he might not want to hear it. Well, too late, he was already moving toward them.

"…. Hydra…" Merlin yelled, and Arthur stumbled, face planting into the dirt.

"… cut the heads off…." So, he was telling _Lancelot_ about the monster, was he? Well, that was nothing big or secret so why was-

"…Poisonous breath." _Well_, Arthur thought bitterly, his vision already darkening on the edges. _Nice of him to share..._ With _Lancelot_.

"…stab it while I…" Arthur tried not to feel too betrayed that Merlin had trusted Lancelot with the information about the monster but not him.

* * *

Gwen watched the hunting party approach from the castle window, and there was no missing the fact that Arthur's horse wasn't at the front of the procession as it should have been. And it wasn't that she wasn't worried about him; she was. She was always worried about Arthur; she loved him—she did, but she couldn't stop herself from looking for Lancelot, from her eyes tightening when she saw how his horse was right next to Merlin's. Always right next to Merlin's.

And she knew she had no right to upset. _Arthur_ was courting her, and Lancelot had chosen to walk away. And it was beyond obvious by the way he was attached to Merlin's hip that Lancelot wanted to be with him. And she loved Arthur; she did. Sometimes she just wondered if she loved him enough.

She sighed, leaning away from the window as she picked up her skirts and headed down to the courtyard. The knights were beginning to unpack their saddlebags by the time she arrived, pilling their supplies down and stroking their horses. What was really unsettling, however, was the way they looked at her out of the corner of their eyes. Pity quickly masked and covered up, and then they were turning away.

"My Lady," Leon said, his voice low as he stepped away from his horse, and Gwen stopped her search for Arthur, for Lancelot. She didn't even know which one anymore.

"Leon?" she answered. "What's happened? Where's Arthur?"

"He was injured in the attack, My Lady," Leon said, and he looked wary, his head bowing slightly, eyebrows drawn. "Merlin managed to pull him out of the way as Lancelot killed the beast."

"Oh," Gwen said, and she couldn't help the warmth that ran straight through her chest and into her stomach. Of course, it had been Lancelot that had saved the day. She was no stranger to how brave he could be, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for how she could possibly feel betrayed when he was out saving the man she was supposed—no, the man she did love.

"He's up with Gaius now," Leon told her, his eyes somewhere between pity and understanding, and she half-wondered if he _knew_.

"Thank you, Leon," she said, before lifting her shirts and turning toward the physician's quarters. She turned the corner, stopping in front of Gaius' chambers and taking a breath. She reached for the door, determined to be true to Arthur, to not cause trouble to Lancelot. She owed them both at least that.

Then the door was swinging open, and Lancelot was standing right there, his dark eyes wide, black hair falling into his face as he stared at her, and she almost couldn't help the way her cheeks flushed as she looked at him.

"Lancelot," she muttered, her breath coming out in a strangled puff.

"Guinevere." he blinked, his lips parting just a tiny amount, and she remembered what it had been like to kiss those lips. Warm and sweat and slow with the taste of milk along the edges.

"I-," she cleared her thoughts and forced herself to focus, to think of Arthur, to think of kissing Arthur, who tried so hard to go slow and to be a gentleman for her. She was courting Arthur, and Lancelot was courting Merlin, and it would never have worked between them anyway. "How is Arthur?"

* * *

Lancelot had to blink at the question, at the way Guinevere asked it, at the way she turned her head away and avoided his eyes. Just a second ago, she had been looking at him as if ... and now it was as if she couldn't stand the sight of him. He could never tell which was his imagination.

"Oh," he told her. "Merlin is tending to him now."

And he almost sighed at the idea of Merlin. He'd left Merlin somewhere between guilty and distraught, but nothing Lancelot had been able to say had been enough to alleviate the pressure Merlin seemed to put on himself. It wasn't _just _that Arthur was injured, it was that Merlin saw it as his fault. Everything about Arthur was Merlin's responsibly, right down to Merlin being impossibly in love with him. Though how Merlin could have controlled something like that, Lancelot had no idea.

Still, they'd had one too many late night drinks and conversations over love and Arthur and Guinevere for Lancelot to judge him.

"But he'll be alright?" Gwen asked, her eyes skirting Lancelot's as she spoke.

He couldn't understand her. While he knew they would never have a romantic relationship, he'd done everything he could think of to ensure they could at least remain friends. He'd spoken about their past relationship, assuring her that he bore neither her nor Arthur any ill will about what had happened. But it was clear from the way she spoke and acted toward him that she either didn't believe him or bore _him_ ill will. It hurt to an extent he hadn't anticipated.

"Gaius says he should be fine in a few days," Lancelot said.

"That's good," Gwen murmured, her eyes focusing on the door to his right, and Lancelot knew when he wasn't wanted. He supposed if he was a good friend he would stay and make sure Merlin didn't do anything stupid, but he honestly didn't think he had it in him to watch Guinevere stand and tend to Arthur, her eyes that soft brown they got when she cared. That wrinkled between her brows when she was concerned.

As strong as he was, he was nowhere near as brave as Merlin when it came to facing the person he loved. Because truly, Lancelot had no idea how he stood by Arthur's side day in and day out knowing the Prince didn't return his feelings.

"I'll leave you," he bowed slightly, turning away and ducking his head as he left.

"Oh, right, of course," Gwen answered, her voice soft, and he could already picture her running her hand down Arthur's face, stroking his hair out of his face, the quiet adoration written across her face. The image painted across the backs of his eyelids.


	2. Part 2

**_Thank you all for reviewing!_**

Part 2: The One Where No One Knows What They've Seen

Arthur looked over to where Merlin was standing, bent down next to Lancelot's seat. Again. He was still a sore from his encounter with the Hydra the previous week, though the injuries were almost completely gone. Gaius had told him to take it easy and all the residual pain would be gone in the next couple of days.

Merlin had laughed behind his back and said that Arthur didn't know how to take it easy, which had earned him a day polishing armor. Merlin didn't need to know that he would have spent the day polishing the armor anyway.

The memory of Merlin joking as he sat, Arthur's armor sprawled across the floor of his chambers just made Arthur scowl harder at Lancelot and Merlin. Lancelot's goblet couldn't have been empty since the last time Merlin had been over there—not that Merlin was bothering to pretend to pour wine into Lancelot's goblet anymore with the way the two of them were whispering.

"Prince Arthur?" Lady Hathor said, her voice pitching sweetly. He turned back to her, blinking and smiling in what he hoped was at least a little charming.

He was supposed to be entertaining his guests, not fawning over his annoying servant. Not that he was fawning. He didn't fawn. Especially, not over Merlin.

"My apologies, Lady Hathor, I was momentarily distracted," Arthur answered her, wrapping his hand around his mostly empty goblet, and really, where was Merlin when he needed him?

"Oh, it's quite alright," she answered, her smile just as sweet as her voice. And she _was_ pretty, in that way he'd always fallen for back when he'd been free to pursue. But he hadn't had the desire to chase in a long time. His eyes followed Merlin as he finally stepped away from Lancelot, the pitcher balanced precariously in his hand. Arthur knew his heart belonged to Gwen after all; there would be no point in chasing anyone else.

Merlin's eyes flicked to meet his, and Arthur frowned at him, tapping his forefinger against his goblet. Merlin flushed bright red and made his way over, and Arthur knew he didn't imagine the way he almost stumbled over his own feet.

"How is Uther?" Lady Hathor asked. "I have yet to see him this evening?"

"My Lord," Merlin whispered. He leaned over Arthur's chair, pouring wine into his goblet, and Arthur turned in his chair, his face an inch away from Merlin's as he hissed.

"What are you and Lancelot whispering about?"

"What?" Merlin blinked at him, looking startled, as if he really believed he was being subtle or something. And Arthur almost snorted. Subtle. Merlin.

"Why do I have to call _my _servant over here to fill my goblet?"

"Uh, because you've drunk too much wine?" Merlin answered, and the sad thing was, he thought he was actually funny. Arthur just stared at him.

"No," he said, straight faced. "Because apparently Lancelot has some very interesting things to say?"

"He was just telling me about all your training exercises this week," Merlin said, and there was no way Arthur could have missed the way his eyes were shining alight with mirth.

"Really, Merlin," Arthur drawled, and Merlin raised one eyebrow at him, already prepared for the incoming insult. "Let's not pretend like you have any idea what our training exercises consist of."

"Right you are, sire," Merlin smirked, that secret look in his eyes again. The one he thought he got away with but never did. The one Arthur agonized over on the nights when sleep wouldn't come.

Arthur wasn't an idiot. He knew Merlin lied to him. Often. And he let it go. Often. But it was times like these that he wanted to throw his goblet at Merlin's head and demand the truth from him, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Lancelot was apparently worthy of Merlin's secrets when Arthur was not.

Arthur's hand tightened are his goblet, his eyes flashing, and Merlin was dashing away from him before he could do anything stupid, which he didn't know whether to be thankful or annoyed for.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking down at his goblet. He should know better than to let Merlin work him up, especially when he was…

He turned abruptly to look over at Lady Hathor, who was smiling faintly over at him from over the top of her own goblet, her lips curved up in a secret grin. She really was pretty. Unnaturally so. With her long dark hair and her secret smile and her bright eyes that Arthur could feel himself falling into the longer he stared-

"I see now why my flirting has had so little effect," she told him, and he almost spilled his wine, jerking as he snapped himself out of whatever daydream he'd been falling into.

"I-uh-What?" he answered, and she only laughed before turning back to festivities around her.

* * *

Gwen stood with her back to the wall as the feast continued around her. She held her wine pitcher in her hand, waiting for any of the ladies to need a drink. Not that they ever seemed to. Merlin, however, was bustle from table to table, tipping his pitcher and having to run back to her for a refill.

She frowned at where he lingered over Lancelot's chair, murmuring something before stepping away. It was the _fifth _time he'd been to Lancelot's side. And Gwen knew for a fact that Lancelot hadn't had that much to drink. In fact, Lancelot looked as if he'd barely drank anything, no sign of his cheeks flushed, his words slurred, his hands becoming uncoordinated.

"If you'll excuse me, My Lord," Lady Hathor said, pushing her chair back and waiting for the knight of her left to pull it out the rest of the way so she could stand. "I'm afraid I must depart for just a moment," she smiled sweetly. "A woman's matter."

Arthur stared at her, his mouth working as if he was trying to find something as all acceptable to say. Gwen stared at the exchange, watching as Lady Hathor smiled patiently down at Arthur. The woman was pretty. Gorgeous. And yet, Gwen could feel the distrust for her bubbling under her skin. She couldn't understand what caused it, but she knew there was something off about Lady Hathor. Something worthy of distrust.

"Of course, Lady Hathor." Arthur blinked hard, seeming to finally come to his bearings.

"I'll be back soon," she answered, drawing her skirts as she walked away. And the door was banging shut behind her in the next minute, the sound of music and cheer filling the hall again.

Gwen glanced to her left, looking to Merlin as she often did when something strange happened. No matter who he was seeing, they were still friends, and she couldn't begrudge him pursuing Lancelot when she would gladly do the same. Except, Merlin was gone. She looked around the room, fully expecting him to be pouring wine somewhere, only he wasn't.

She caught a glance of his red neckerchief slipping out of the hall, the door closing soundlessly behind him. She gaped at where he used to be, wondering what could have gotten into him. She _knew _Merlin, he wouldn't have snuck off if something important hadn't happened, surely. Arthur always complained about what a terrible servant he was, but Gwen knew Merlin wasn't actually most of the things Arthur said.

Gwen squinted around the room. No one was looking at her; it would be easy to slip out. To follow Merlin. Surely, he was up to _something_, and the tiny part of her that whispered that he was doing something for Lancelot had nothing to do with why she slipped out after him, abandoning her pitcher and hoping no one would empty their goblet while they were away.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she stayed still for a moment, trying to ignore the sounds of celebration behind her. Faintly, to the right, she could hear the footsteps. She dashed in that direction, heading down the corridor as fast as he skirts would allow, until she saw Merlin just ahead. He turned when she was just a few feet from him, his eyes widening when he realized who she was.

"Gwen?" he asked, his voice low, surprised.

"Merlin," she answered, mirroring the way he whispered without having any idea why. "What are you doing?"

"I'm… uh…" he blinked at her, obviously at a loss, his eyes flicking to the right. And then the door was opening, and Lady Hathor was stepping out, smiling widely at them as if she'd fully expected to find them standing and whispering in the middle of the corridor.

"My Lady," Gwen immediately bowed to her; Merlin just looked at her for a long second before following her lead.

"Guinevere," Lady Hathor answered, and Gwen stared at her, wondering vaguely how Lady Hathor knew her name. She supposed it was possible Arthur had mentioned her. "Emrys," Lady Hathor continued, turning to Merlin. "So, good to finally meet you."

"How do you know that name?" Merlin answered, his eyes flicking to Gwen and then away. As if she had any idea what was going on. Who Emrys was. "Who are you?"

"I go by many names," Lady Hathor answered, her dress swishing along her feet as she stepped forward. "Min, Freyja, Kama, Venus, Milda, Aphrodite. Really, there's so many more."

"You're a deity?" Merlin asked, and Gwen turned to stare at him. She didn't know if Merlin was crazy or making complete sense, but the way Hathor was staring between them with her eyes shining unnaturally bright told her that she was about to find out in an altogether unpleasant way.

"Merlin?" Gwen said. Hathor just laughed loudly, her hair shining against the torchlight.

"Love Goddess," Hathor purred as she stalked forward, her eyes never leaving Merlin. "And really, I must say I'm impressed you've managed to resist me, Emrys. Not many do."

"I don't know," Merlin said, his eyes flicking to Gwen and then back again.

"Yes, you do," Hathor smiled at him, and Gwen could only stare as she stalked even closer. "It's because you're not attracted to women. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"What do you want?" Merlin snapped, his hands clenched, Gwen beside him.

"I want what you want." Hathor's smile was sharp, deadly as she spoke. "Love without consequence."

"What are you-," Merlin started, but she was already holding out her hand, her lips puckering as she blew, the pinkish mist falling toward them before Gwen could so much as blink. Hathor's voice echoed some strange language in her mind even as Merlin was yelling out a warning, his hand wrapping around her wrist, but the mist had already settled across her eyes, leaving her confused and reeling.

* * *

Arthur watched as Lady Hathor sat down next to him, looking immaculate and beautiful. He couldn't help wondering vaguely what womanly emergency she'd experienced. Then he flinched and put it out of his mind. He didn't need to know.

His eyes wandered across the room to where Lancelot was sitting, his eyes hard on Lady Hathor. Arthur saw Lancelot's eyes flick behind him, too fast for him to really follow, and Lancelot was frowning, that worried sort of frown that Arthur had learned to trust.

"My Lord," Lancelot said, standing and looking over at Arthur. "If you'll excuse me for the night."

Arthur bit his lip against the scowl he could feel working its way onto his face and just nodded. Lancelot turned, sweeping out of the hall. Arthur ran his finger over his goblet, ignoring Lady Hathor's easy smile next to him, the way her hair brushed over her shoulder with the smell of honey. He lifted his goblet, not really feeling surprised when it was empty.

He looked behind him, to the right, and then down the table. And still he didn't see Merlin. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd seen Merlin since before Lancelot had left.

Arthur felt his hand clamp around his goblet, anger coiling through him, hot and shocking as it dropped through his chest and into his stomach, and he suddenly wanted to know where Merlin was right that second, no matter the consequences. He stood, listening as the hall quieted around him.

"I'll be retiring for the night," Arthur said, and there was an almost silent grumbling around the hall. "Please, don't let this end your night."

He stepped out the same door Lancelot had as the festivities continued behind him. He could hear footsteps echoing to the left, and he followed behind them, turning one corner and then another and then stopping as he heard arguing ahead.

"Don't pretend you don't want him!" a voice shouted. Arthur's eyes widened, and he started forward. That was Gwen's voice, high and angry and echoing.

"Gwen, we have no idea what you're talking about," and that was Lancelot's voice, sounding confused and comforting, and Arthur was almost there; he was sure they were just around the next corner if only-

"No, she's too busy fawning over Arthur to make sense," Merlin's voice sounded, and Arthur almost stumbled as he turned the corner. It sounded so unlike Merlin. Merlin was calm and kind and unaffected, and he hardly ever spoke with his voice pitched down as if he was truly angry, truly trying to hurt someone.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked, and three pairs of eyes turned toward him. Gwen looked close to tears, her eyes bright red as she stared at him. Lancelot just looked guilty, opening his mouth before closing it again and glancing away. And Merlin was just staring at him, his pupils dilating even as Arthur watched, a faint blush covering his cheeks, and Arthur didn't know why he couldn't just look away, but he found he couldn't—didn't want to try.

"Arthur," Merlin said, his voice raspier than normal, and Arthur's name seemed to be the final straw for Gwen, who gave a single wail, covered his face and fled the corridor, running down the hall without even bothering to hold her skirts up.

Lancelot swung his head around from where he'd been looking at Merlin, watching Gwen go with wide eyes, and then he was chasing after her as if he was possessed, his footsteps pounding against the floor as Arthur watched. Arthur turned back to Merlin, wondering what in the world he'd missed. But the thought dropped from his head in the next minute, because Merlin was _still _looking at him, staring at him, his blue eyes dark on Arthur's face.

He stepped forward, and the thought of stepping back passed through Arthur's mind, gone so fast when Merlin was barely a hair's breadth away from him. And Merlin was raising his hand, touching his neck, Merlin's thumb drawing down, and he felt as if there was a weight in his chest, in his stomach, pushing his heart down, making it impossible to breathe, and he _should _have known what Merlin was about to do. It was completely obvious. But he was still somehow completely taken by surprise when Merlin brought his lips down on top of his.

* * *

Lancelot chased after Guinevere, still hearing her sobbing hiccups in front of him. He was beyond confused, beyond concerned. Both her and Merlin were acting as if they'd lost their minds. Merlin had warned him that the Lady Hathor wasn't exactly human, and he'd _known _when she'd disappeared, Merlin chasing after her, he should have followed.

Now, both Merlin and Gwen were under some kind of spell. They had almost seemed normal when Lancelot arrived. Gwen blinking and staring at nothing while Merlin tried to tell her everything was alright. Merlin had saw him almost immediately, saying Hathor had thrown some kind of mist on them.

He'd been talking a mile a minute about love and deities and inhibitions and Arthur and only just explaining what Hathor had done when Gwen had seen him, and it was as if a switch had flipped. She started accusing Merlin of something and one nasty accusation about Arthur later and Merlin had snapped back. When Lancelot had trued to calm them down, himself had turned the corner.

Now Lancelot was chasing after her, turning yet another corner before he saw that Gwen had stopped suddenly, staring across the small space at him with an expression that was something between anger and hurt, and Lancelot didn't _understand_.

"Guinevere?" he called softly, still trying to sound soothing.

"Did you see the way Merlin was looking at Arthur?" she asked; she sounded scandalized, and Lancelot felt something in him deflate with a hot flash of hurt as he finally understood. Of course, Gwen was upset because of Merlin's feelings, because of the way Arthur had seemed so intrigued by them.

Lancelot should have known better than to expect anything else. He knew Gwen loved Arthur. He knew she was over him.

"I did," he told her softly. She stared back at him, and he could still see the steel shinning behind her eyes. That look of determination that he had always admired. She seemed different than before. More herself. Lancelot couldn't help but wonder if whatever spell had been on her had broken. It would make sense as to why she'd run away—or stopped running. Either way, something had changed.

"It doesn't bother you?" she asked him. Truthfully, it didn't bother him; he understood better than most that Merlin couldn't help who he loved, no matter if Arthur was already courting someone and also happened to be a man. He understood love, and he understood unrequited love.

But he also knew that wasn't what Guinevere wanted to hear; she wanted someone to sympathize with her, and he was far enough gone that he was willing to just tell her what she wanted to hear.

"I mean, I suppose," Lancelot said, and Gwen let out a sigh, sounding too close to heartbroken for him to leave well enough alone. "But you know, Merlin is- uh, he's in love with Arthur. He can't help himself. He doesn't mean to hurt anyone."

"Oh," Guinevere answered, running a hand down her face, and Lancelot really didn't know if he'd helped or not, but he also didn't know what else to say.

* * *

Merlin felt himself shudder against Arthur, against Arthur's lips on his, against Arthur's hand wrapped tightly around his neckerchief, against Arthur's breath on his mouth, against Arthur's chin on his palm.

And it felt every bit as good as Merlin had imagined it would—except—Arthur wasn't kissing him back. Somehow Merlin had always imagined Arthur kissing him back. Not standing with his hands clenched at his sides, his mouth was stiff against Merlin's, his body hard and tense. As if he was trying very hard not to punch Merlin in the face.

Merlin jerked away, pulling himself abruptly off Arthur, who was staring at him with wide blue eyes of such shock, Merlin knew there wouldn't be room for the disgust that was minutes away. He shook his head, and he could _feel _Hathor's spell dissolve from around him, leaving him shaking and horrified.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes downcast, voice low; Arthur didn't bother to answer, and Merlin didn't want to see the dawning revulsion on his face. He couldn't. "It was a spell. I- Lady Hathor- she-," he swallowed hard. "She cast a love spell on me and Gwen. It wasn't real. I wouldn't…"

And it wasn't that he was lying, because he never _would. _But he was also implying that he hadn't desperately wanted to every time he looked at Arthur.

Arthur still didn't answer, and Merlin took a step back, feeling his legs tremble under him as the stone wall collided with his back, and he was scrambling to the side, turning his back on Arthur, determined not to look back. Not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. Couldn't stand what he would see.

"I'm sorry," he said, one last time before he was turning a corner, and then he was running.

**_Thanks for reading! The last part will be posted tomorrow._**

**_To Meeeeeerlin, _**

**_You're very right, they _all _need to talk instead of being idiots! Thanks for reviewing!_**


	3. Part 3

**_So sorry for the lateness. Hope you enjoy. _**

Part 3: The One Where Everyone Figures It Out

Arthur was left standing in the middle of the corridor, feeling particularly dense. Of course, it was only after Merlin kissed him that he understood. He touched his fingers to his lips, and abruptly noticed his hand was trembling. He had to consciously force his fingers to close into a fist.

He'd kissed Gwen a hundred times now, and she'd never made him feel as if his whole world was crashing down around him, burning and bruising, ending too soon—before he'd actually had a chance to see how good it can feel to lose himself in passion and fire. It had been-

He didn't know how he'd missed it. Well, actually he did. He'd missed it because he wanted to. Because men weren't supposed to fall in love with men, because he was a prince, and because he'd wanted himself to be in love with Gwen. He groaned, leaning back against the wall and putting his head in his hands. She was going to be devastated.

It wasn't that he didn't care about her; it was that he _loved _Merlin. Merlin with his stupid ears and his stupid neckerchiefs and his stupid back-talking and his stupid flirting with Lancelot. Arthur groaned louder. Merlin, who obviously didn't feel the same. Merlin, who obviously was in love with Lancelot, because he'd made it very clear that he'd only kissed Arthur because of a spell.

And somehow that only made it worse. Because, he could have lived in denial forever if Merlin hadn't kissed him. But now he knew. And he also knew that Merlin had regretted kissing him. It had been so easy to read on his face.

Arthur flinched when he heard footsteps coming from the direction Gwen had run off and abruptly turned the opposite way. He just couldn't face her right then. Couldn't face anyone.

* * *

Lancelot found Merlin ducked under the stable doors, his head in his hands. He wasn't shaking as if he was crying, but Lancelot could tell he had been. He plucked down next to him, heaving a sigh. He was still stinging from Gwen's words, even though he knew he had no right to be hurt anymore. She had moved on; why couldn't he?

"What happened?" he asked, laying a gentle hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"I couldn't control myself," Merlin answered, not bothering to lift his head. "The spell was meant to affected inhibitions. Turn them off. Make us act without thought for consequences."

"How do you know that?" Lancelot asked.

"I recognized some of the words she said when she cast," Merlin shrugged. As if that wasn't impressive.

"I guess that makes sense about Guinevere," Lancelot muttered, and he could still remember the way she'd looked with the tears running down her face. The hopeless look in her eyes. "You were both hit with the same spell."

"Yeah," Merlin answered, his voice low and full of guttural pain. "She was yelling at me to stop pretending I didn't want him."

"Merlin-."

"I guess she's always known how I felt about Arthur."

"Merlin, you can't help how you feel," Lancelot said, his hand heavy against Merlin's shoulder. He hoped it was comforting, even if his words weren't.

"What did she say to you?" Merlin asked, raising his head to look up at Lancelot. His eyes were red, though not wet. He'd obviously cried, though it had been a while since he'd stopped.

"She saw how you looked at him," Lancelot told him. He wondered if Merlin could see the pain that flashed through the back his eyes at the memory. At the way Gwen had seemed so hurt at the idea. If so, he didn't say anything. "She knows you're in love with him."

"I kissed him," Merlin said, and Lancelot couldn't exactly say that he was surprised. If he'd gotten a magic whatever-spell thrown on him, he probably would have kissed Guinevere too, as wrong as that was. As much as he would have regretted it. And he could tell Merlin regretted it.

"Arthur cares about you," he said, squeezing Merlin's shoulder again. "You guys will figure it out."

* * *

Arthur sighed as he looked around his empty room. It had been three days. Three days of awkward silences and strange looks and Merlin staring at him as if he were afraid Arthur was going to bite him or something. He poked at his breakfast, staring moodily out the window. Three days ago, Merlin would have been tidying up his room while he ate—never mind how improper that was—and talking and joking and making fun of Arthur all the while.

And it wasn't just Merlin who was acting strange, but Gwen too. Every time she turned the corner and saw him, she would blush to the roots of her hair and turn away. He couldn't help remembering how she'd run off crying the night Merlin had kissed him. Merlin had said she'd been affected by the same spell Merlin had been, and he wondered vaguely just what she'd _done _that was so bad.

He figured it couldn't actually _be_ worse than realizing you were in love with your manservant and best friend.

Consequently, they hadn't talked. Which was probably for the best as Arthur had no idea what to even begin to say. Did they continue on, even though he didn't love her, or did they break it off completely, even though Merlin couldn't love him?

They hadn't found Lady Hathor either. After the feast, it was like she and her entire entourage had disappeared into thin air, leaving him no sorceress to blame for his recent increase of bad luck.

He sighed again, leaning his head against the window as he fingered his goblet. Which was empty, of course. He jerked upright as he saw a red neckerchief bobbing through the courtyard. He followed the color until it was clear from the flash of black hair that it was indeed Merlin dashing across the courtyard. Arthur could just make out the way his mouth twisted down, his head bent low as he walked.

Merlin walked another few feet before stopping in front of a knight. They talked for a minute or so before Merlin smiled abruptly, tilting his head up just enough for Arthur to catch the way his black hair stuck up in a tangled mess. And then he was waving to the knight, walking away as he did, his smile dropping off his face so fast, it could have never been there.

Arthur stood, feeling his anger and frustration burning through him. He couldn't understand what he had done that was so wrong, that could possibility make Merlin _so _miserable. It wasn't as if Merlin _knew _Arthur's feelings, and if Arthur had to stand in front of him and lie about it, then he would. But he was going to talk to the idiot, because really, if Merlin was going to go around acting as if Arthur had betrayed him, then they were going to have to talk.

It only took him a few minutes to head down the stairs, moving through a couple corridors before stopping in front of Gaius' chambers. He could hear clattering from inside, someone moving around. Arthur took a deep breath; he had to talk to Merlin, no matter what happened. He had to. They couldn't continue on the way they were. He pushed open the door.

"Merlin," Gaius called as soon as the door creaked. He didn't even bother to turn, still bent over his beakers as he was. "If you're done with all your chores, we really need to talk about that inhibition spell!"

"Gaius?" Arthur answered, blinking at the physician's back. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, You're majesty.?" Gaius spun around, tensing as he turned to face Arthur. "I didn't realize it was you."

"Are you talking about the spell that was cast on Merlin a couple days ago?" Arthur asked, ignoring Gaius' attempt at formality. "Merlin said it was a love spell." Gaius frowned at him, one eyebrow raised as he looked over his spectacles, and Arthur suddenly knew he didn't have all the information.

"Merlin told you that?" Gaius answered, one eyebrow raising. And honestly, Gaius and Merlin had never been spectacular liars, but it had never occurred to Arthur before that moment that Merlin was lying to him about the spell.

"It wasn't a love spell?" he asked.

"I… wouldn't know," Gaius said. "I'm sure Merlin had a perfectly reasonable explanation for believing it to be."

"Gaius," Arthur answered.

"As far as I can tell, it was only an inhibition spell," Gaius said with a sigh. "Anyone who was effect would have had their inhibitions lowered to the point where they said or did the first thing that popped into their head without a thought to the consequences. Merlin has been determined to forget about the entire thing for some reason."

"Well, that's…" he started, and he really didn't know how to finish, and he didn't have to, because he was already turning and leaving the room, his shoes clicking against the floor as he went. He and Merlin were going to _talk._

* * *

Gwen sighed, shifting the sack of flour she had in her hands, so it was easier to carry. She hadn't seen Lancelot in three days, hadn't talked to Arthur, hadn't made eye-contact with Merlin. Merlin had taken her aside, tried to tell her there was no hard feelings, that they were under the effects of a spell. Gwen had nodded and smiled at him, but she hadn't really believed him.

She couldn't stop thinking about the horrible things they said to each other. He had thought she wanted Arthur, and she had thought Lancelot wanted him. She had been so angry, so self-righteous, and then Arthur had turned the corner, calling out to them, and Merlin had turned. She couldn't get the look in his eyes out of her head.

Merlin's eyes had been soft and intense and full of compassion. The way people only looked when they were in love. And she couldn't help thinking that _she _had never looked at Arthur like that.

It was no wonder Lancelot loved him, that Lancelot wanted to be with him.

Gwen couldn't stay with Arthur, knowing she didn't love him half as much as Merlin did. Even if Arthur didn't love Merlin, couldn't ever love Merlin the same way Merlin loved him, they both deserved more than watching her stand between them when her heart belonged to Lancelot. If she could only figure out the right way to tell Arthur all that.

She stopped next to one of the castle windows, looking out into the courtyard, hoping for a glance of—she didn't even know of what anymore. She sighed and turned away, coming face to face with Arthur.

"Gwen," he said.

"Oh," she answered, shifting the bag of flour against her hip. "Um, Arthur."

"We should talk," he told her, and she let her breath out in a loud puff. She supposed she should take it as a good sign that he thought so too.

"We should," she answered. He took the bag from her, setting it down against the wall, and she thought about how she would just have to pick it back up in a minute they were done but then forced herself dismissed the thought. He _was _just trying to be nice, in his Arthur way.

"I don't know what happened three days ago with the spell and Lady Hathor and Lancelot," Arthur said, his cheeks turning faintly red as he spoke, and Gwen could feel the sigh building in her, the frustration. She didn't _want _to hurt him. If he would just- "And I don't care," Arthur finished, and she blinked.

"I think deep down we both knew that what we had wasn't going to work," Arthur said, his eyes steady on his face, full of sadness. And she realized abruptly that it wasn't for losing her, but it was for hurting her.

"I'm still in love with Lancelot," she told him. Arthur's eyes widened, but she just stared back at him, wondering if he hadn't been talking about Lancelot, then _what _had he been talking about.

"Um, ok," he muttered. "I guess I missed that."

"I thought that's what you were going on about?" she asked.

"No," he answered, scratching the back of his head, averting his eyes before looking at her again. "I was- I was talking about how I feel about Merlin."

"Oh!" Gwen said, and she could already feel herself smiling, the corner of her lips pulling up at the thought of Arthur and Merlin together, even if Lancelot and she never worked things out between them. "Well, Merlin's in love with you too."

"What?" Arthur stared back at her, his blue eyes shining in the light from the window. "How do you know that?"

"Lancelot told me," Gwen answered.

"But Lancelot and Merlin…" Arthur trailed off, apparently coming to the same conclusion as Gwen—that while Lancelot might have been in love with Merlin, Merlin had just been spending time with a friend to avoid Arthur, who he loved, who also happened to be engaged to someone else.

Gwen forced herself to smile at Arthur as she remembered her spell-induced conversation with Lancelot, his confused dark eyes as he'd assured her that he cared that Merlin was in love with someone else, that it did bother him, but he stayed with Merlin because Merlin needed him, because it wasn't Merlin's fault.

"Thank you, Gwen," Arthur called, already taking off down the corridor. She stared after him, shaking her head as she bent to pick up the bag of flour.

* * *

Merlin stared down at the half-eaten breakfast still set on Arthur's table. Arthur wasn't even eating the food he was bringing now. As pathetic as he figured it would be to descend into a fit of self-pity over that little fact, Merlin couldn't help but want to.

He'd known Arthur would be uncomfortable by the kiss, but he thought if he said it was a spell, Arthur would be able to move on. But then Gwen had to guess how he felt, and Lancelot had confirmed it, and of course, she had told Arthur, and Merlin knew they would never be able to move on from that. He could tell from the way Arthur looked at him. The flicker of nerves, a hint of desperation, fear. As if he really thought Merlin was going to do something awful to him.

Merlin set one plate on top of another, creating a semi-stable stack as he moved. Unfortunately, right as he went to pick the stack up, the door swung open, and Merlin turned abruptly, watching as the dishes went flying. Arthur stared, his blue eyes wide as he took in the sight of three broken plates on the ground with almost an entire meal ruined with them.

Merlin sighed heavily, throwing his head back as he did. Arthur was supposed to be training, not interrupting Merlin in his own rooms.

"What are you doing here?" Merlin snapped at him; Arthur raised an eyebrow, somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"This is my room," he answered. And really, with the way his voice rumbled, and his blonde hair swept across his head as if he'd just run, his blue eyes shining, he was entirely too attractive to stay angry at. Merlin gave it his best. "I can be here if I want. You're the one that just broke a bunch of plates."

"You startled me," Merlin said, pursing his lips even as he watched Arthur step closer to him.

"Did I?" Arthur asked, and he sounded entirely too confident, one eyebrow raised, one side of his mouth turned up in a smirk. He looked like he did when he was seducing someone. Merlin took a step back, narrowing his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"I ended things with Gwen," Arthur said, and Merlin blinked, wobbling on his feet for half a second as he stared. Arthur had _what?_ He felt like the floor was falling out from under him, his eyes boggling out of his head as Arthur took another step toward him. "We both discovered we had feelings for someone else."

"You…what?" Merlin asked, the question echoing around in his head. He felt like he'd lost control of the conversation, no idea where he was anymore. Half convinced he was hallucinating. Arthur rolled his eyes, his next step forward putting him solidly in front of Merlin this time, close enough to touch.

"You, Merlin," he said. "I want you."

"But…" Merlin blinked. "But you-," fortunately, Arthur didn't let him get much further, his hand coming up to lock on the back of Merlin's neck, his head swooping in to attach his lips to Merlin's. And Merlin was collapsing into Arthur, falling into him and kissing him back with a passion that he didn't know he had.

* * *

Lancelot hesitated before stepping into the castle. He'd been avoiding it for the last three days, choosing instead to live between the barracks and the training field. But Arthur was an hour late to training already; _someone_ had to make sure the prince was alive.

Granted, it could have been something as simple as Merlin having forgotten to wake Arthur up, but with Merlin as nervous as he already was, Lancelot somehow doubted that.

He moved through the castle corridor, feeling more nervous with each passing step. When he turned a corner a little too quickly, running straight into none other than Guinevere, he was abruptly reminded why. She dropped the bag of flour she was carrying, the light powder billowing up to cover the both of them in the white dust. Lancelot watched as she stared at him with something close to horror, her mouth opening and then closing and then opening again as her eyes were wide enough to be perfect circles.

"Lancelot," she said finally.

"Hello, Guinevere," he answered, already wanting to hit himself for being so stupid. He'd run into her, and now he was responding with 'Hello, Guinevere'? He abruptly ducked down, pinching the bag by the corner, but when he pulled on it, more flour came tumbling out, falling on his bracers and shoes in a large heap.

"You can't pick it up like that," Gwen said, her voice low and filled with amusement, and he sighed before looking back up at her. She was still beautiful, even covered in flour with her hair a mess from working all day. She was beautiful.

"My apologies for knocking it over in the first place," he answered, and she smiled at him, slow and sweet and completely Guinevere. Then she turned her face away, biting her lip.

"It's alright," she said. "You looked like you were in a hurry."

"I was looking for Arthur," he said, standing and watching as flour cascaded off of him and fell onto the ground around them. "He hasn't shown up to training today."

"Oh," Gwen blinked, biting her lip with more force now.

"You wouldn't happen to know where he was?" Lancelot asked, because as much as he hated it, she would be the person to ask. Arthur was _courting _her, after all.

"Um, he's with Merlin," she said, turning to look at him, and he blinked at the pity in her eyes. As if he should have been upset that Merlin and Arthur were finally working things out.

"Ah," he said, his eyebrows furrowed.

"You see," she started, her voice still laced with pity and guilt and pain. "Arthur realized he had feelings for Merlin the same way Merlin had feelings for him, and he went to go tell him."

"And are you alright?" Lancelot asked, half reaching out for her before letting his hand fall. He could only imagine how Gwen must have been feeling, to have Arthur tell her he didn't love her after all; she must have been devastated.

"Me?" she asked, frowning at him as if his question had made no sense. "Yes, I'm… We both decided it wasn't working, but… but aren't you upset?"

"Why would I be upset?"

"I thought…I thought you cared for Merlin."

"Only as a friend," Lancelot answered, and he felt somewhere between confused and surprised and uncertain. Had his behavior toward Merlin really been so misleading? He had never meant to make it seem as if he and Merlin were anything but good friends.

"Oh, so you…"

"My heart belongs to another," he said, and her eyes were on his face, intense, sharp, focused, and he didn't know why he did it, but it wasn't like she was courting Arthur anymore, and she _had _said it had been a mutual parting, and he was talking before he knew what was good for him, the words falling from his lips. "My heart belongs to you, Guinevere."

She stared at him, her eyes widening for one long eternity before she smiled widely, moving forward to meld herself against him, ignoring the flour and the armor and his sweat as she pressed her lips against his.

* * *

Merlin shuddered as Arthur hovered above him on the bed, his hips pressed against Merlin's as he moved. He didn't even know how they'd _gotten _to the bed, which was somehow probably supposed to be bad, but somehow wasn't anywhere near good enough.

Merlin gasped as Arthur thrust against him sharply, pulling his mouth away to breathe, and Arthur attacked his throat. He'd lost his neckerchief somewhere on the way to the bed, Arthur throwing it to the side with an annoyed grunt, and Merlin had a vague thought that no _wonder _all those women had found their way to Arthur's rooms if this was the way he kissed, and then Merlin was spiraling down the path of—what if this was all Arthur wanted from him too?

If he really _wanted _Merlin the way he'd seemed to want Gwen, shouldn't he be slowing down. Offering to court Merlin, saying sweet things and taking it slow. The terrifying thing was that Merlin had no idea what he would prefer, what was right.

"Arthur," he gasped, already half out of his mind with pleasure, but he _knew_. He _knew _there were things they needed to talk about. Things Arthur didn't know about him, things he needed to know before he could decide if he really wanted to be with him. He tugged on Arthur's shirt, and Arthur was pulling away, looking up at him with his pupils blown, his blue eyes filled with desire, and Merlin desperately wished he could just drown in them.

"Merlin," Arthur blinked hard, seeming to come back to himself. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to," and Merlin groaned at him, because that was exactly the problem. He _wanted _to. He wanted to so badly he hurt.

"Arthur, there are things about me you don't know," he said, and he could hear the tension in his voice. The hard edge of worry.

"As long as you're not sleeping with Lancelot, we're good," Arthur answered, smiling slightly at his joke.

"What?" Merlin blinked at him, and Arthur waved his hand, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Nothing."

"Right," Merlin answered, frowned up at Arthur. "Well, no. That's not what I-."

"Look, Merlin, whatever it is," Arthur said, brushing his hand across Merlin's cheekbone, up into his tangled hair. "I trust you." He wondered if Arthur would still be saying that when he knew about Merlin's magic. When he knew how much he used it. He wondered if Arthur would still be laying in bed with him. "I love you, Merlin," Arthur whispered, his voice soft and sure across the space between them, and Merlin gasped quietly, feeling his eyes go wide. "Nothing's going to change that."

Merlin surged up, pressing his lips against Arthur's, his hands finding their way into Arthur's hair. And in that moment, he could believe Arthur completely. He could believe that everything would be fine when he told Arthur the truth, when he came clean. And he knew they would need to talk, but he also knew now was the time for passion and love, not confessions.

"I love you too," he breathed against Arthur's mouth, and Arthur smiled widely.

~Fin~


End file.
